Rune Breaker: The Complete Saga: Rune Breaker

Rune Breaker: The Complete Saga

by Landon Porter

Rune Breaker: The Complete Saga

© 2012 Landon Porter

A reprinting of:

Rune Breaker from www.descendantsserial.com

Copyright © 2010 by Landon Porter

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Book 1: A Girl and Her Monster

Chapter 1 – Pursued

Loose stones skittered under her feet, the sound amplified by the closeness of the cave. Though it was pitch black, she had no trouble seeing. Her kind wouldn't; they had been bred to march through day and night if necessary with no need of fires or torches.

Her lineage gave her height nearing seven feet without her boots, and a robust, hinged ribcage that let her breathe deeper than any other race of demi-humans. She shared that birthright with the masters: the hailene. But her red hair, cut savagely close to her skull, marked her as ang'hailene. The very word meant 'not people', and to the hailene, they were nothing at all unless they were first molded to the wishes of their hailene masters.

That wasn't all they had been created for, and part of that breeding suddenly informed her that this was no cave she had found herself in. It was a mine. Or at least some sort of hand-made tunnel. An adolescence spent hewing iron ore from the earth was the preferred method of strengthening her kind for military training.

In the darkness behind her, there were other noises: claws on stone, growling, and snarling breaths of canine effort. The guard hounds of the masters were no more mere dogs than she was a human. They did not bark or yap or whine, and they were cunning and vicious in a way most thought only demi-humans were capable of.

A frontrunner of the pack took the bend in the tunnel at speed by running up the wall, then leapt toward her. She was only warned by the sound, whirled and met paws half the size of her head with the flat of her sword. With all her strength, she pushed it away and brought the sword up ready to strike when it came again.

The hound's lips curled back in a snarl, revealing its sharp snout to be full of metallic teeth. Like all of its breed, it didn't even know that retreat was an option. She had seen the training: pups with an instinct to flee were killed instantly and those without were bred continuously.

It leapt at her and her sword came down precisely on its skull. Hot fluid and brain matter spilled as the sharp iron clove deep into the hound's head. It drove right through to the spinal column and there, it stuck in bone. By the time she realized there was a problem, it was too late. The dying animal's weight and her own bulwark-solid stance conspired against the sword, and it snapped.

As it came free of the newly made corpse, she heard more on the way. Still gripping the broken blade, she turned and bolted further down the tunnel.

That had been the third hound she'd killed and it never stopped being satisfying. After years of bites and watching her brothers and sisters being mauled for punishment or base entertainment, she could live a happy life if she were only allowed to spend it killing their entire species, one beast at a time.

But she was no fool. The masters had loosed a pack of a dozen to hunt her down after her 'sin'. Fighting on open ground would have been suicide, even if she used all of her potential. Falling back to the cave reduced the number that could come at her at once and removed flanking from the equation, at least for a while.

That had been a good plan, back before the shield had been torn off her arm, or when she didn't have claw marks oozing blood along her back or a chunk nipped out of her calf. In retrospect, she should have waited until she was in full armor before making good her escape.

Fortunately, she was built and bred to fight until torn into pieces. She would run until she was cornered and then, even with only a broken sword, she would bring as many as she could with her into death's arms. Fighting like an animal if necessary. Like a demon. Tooth and claw.

That last thought settled in on her like a mantle of ice. Self consciously, she checked her hand. Still nails. No thicker. Good.

The cave floor began to slope sharply, and she found herself skidding down it instead of running. Suddenly, there was light up ahead. Lines of white radiance.

They were leaking out from around an iron door. It was half again her height with no visible hinges. The only feature was a wheel set into its face, like that found on the vaults where the masters performed their works.

She managed to stop before slamming into it, and blinked in surprise. Why was this here? Had she really just fled directly to the home of her hated enemy?

More growling breaths. The hounds were coming. If this was some secret abode or laboratory of some other hailene, she stood a much better chance of killing him and possibly taking weapons or defenses from the corpse than she did making a stand at the door.

She tucked the broken sword into her belt (the scabbard was lost at the cave's mouth) and seized the wheel.

It was rusted hard, but still moved grudgingly. Muscles knotted along her arms and back as, inch by inch, she forced it to move. The growls and snarls were closer. This was taking too long. She couldn't do this, and if she kept at it, she would die with her back to the enemy.

Heat filled her belly. No, she would not fail. There was strength; a great, deep well of it. All it took was not fearing or resenting it. It was hers to use after all, not the masters'.

An itching sensation crept over her arms. Her gorge rose as she saw the tiny scales, shaped like rounded kite-shields, sprouting like a fungus. Thickening, hardened nails bit into the metal of the wheel and suddenly, the rust wasn't groaning and resisting, it was screaming as the wheel turned freely.

In an instant, the door swung open and the first hound arrived. She stepped into the sudden brightness beyond the door and then with all the strength pressed into her flesh and bones by the masters, she slammed the door and turned the wheel on the inside face of it until the bolt slid home once again.

The hound slammed into the iron, making it rattle in the stone around it. But it could not get inside.

Seconds passed and she stood there, pressing the door closed as if to supplement the bolt, staring at the gleaming red scales. Despite the sickness rolling in her stomach, she forced herself to be calm. And with that act of will, the scales wilted, receding into her flesh.

I smell hot blood.

The voice was rough and deep, like some primordial reptile trying the words on for size.

She turned, the sword coming up into her hands in a smooth motion. Before it was broken, it had been larger than that which any normal demi-human could carry in one hand, not even a hailene. But she was special, even by the standards of muddled ang'hailene genetics. Even in its current state, the sword made for a reasonably long blade.

There was no one to threaten with it.

She was standing alone in a domed chamber, roughly hewn from the rock and girded with iron buttresses that met in the shadowed ceiling above. The floor had been ground smooth and in the center of it stood a thicket of stone pillars, each marked with carved maze patterns and topped by a globe of cold, white magical flame.

There was no logic or aesthetic to the placement of the pillars except the fact that they vaguely surrounded a central point. Thick chains of iron, copper, and silver were strung from them to loop around the thing in the center.

She had only ever seen iron maidens in the captured dungeons of some of the folk the hailene made war with. This was something of a kind. Made of dull stone, it looked like a huge sarcophagus stood upright. There was the likeness of a stoic man with a short beard and a scythe held across his chest carved into it, and there were spikes of black metal driven into it like nails into soft wood. The chains wrapped around and looped over these.

Suspended in the chains, over the carved figure's chest, was a stone tablet with faded writing etched on it.

She wondered at just what she was looking at as the hound slammed into the door behind her again.

But your soul is strong. The voice came again, still with no origin.

She presented the sword forcefully to the room. Who are you? She demanded.

Read the tablet.

There wasn't anywhere else to go And arguing with a disembodied voice held no appeal, so she carefully strode into the thicket of pillars and approached the sarcophagus.

Though the writing was of a type she had never seen before, she felt some magic at work that allowed her to understand it:

'Here lies the great weapon, Rune Breaker. When blood is paid and the bargain struck, a strong soul will command the mightiest of weapons.'

The symbols that evidently stood for 'Rune Breaker' were carved differently than the others, in such a way that made them stand out in a series of sharp points.

There were multiple thumps against the door. The pack had arrived and once they coordinated, they would have the strength to break in.

Someone is here to end your life.

She turned to face the door, readying her sword. I know this.

Do you want to die, deep inside the earth, alone and unmourned?

Of course not. She said without emotion. But it's happening anyway.

It doesn't have to. Spill your blood on the tablet. Strike the bargain. Swear to use me as you will.

What insanity are you speaking? Who are you?

You read the tablet. You know.

More impacts on the door. Tiny avalanches of dust and pebbles shook loose from the cave wall surrounding it.

You want me to believe that I've stumbled across some sort of hidden weapon? You're some demon looking to trick and use me. She insisted, never shifting her ready stance.

Worse than a demon. But in a few moments, you will be torn to pieces. What are you really risking? I ask again: do you want to die here?

She chewed her lip. If she fought, it was in her nature, she would fight with everything she had. She would give in and she would die... like that. There was no fear of death, but she wanted to die as a person instead of a weapon.

No. I don't want to die here.

Then do it now. Spill your blood on the tablet.

She turned to face the tablet. The dangers were obvious; she was no fool and knew that there were ways to control or harm or entrap a person with their blood. the worst of them needing it to be freely given. She might gain this 'mighty weapon', or she might become blood-bound to a demon. But then how much worse could service to a demon be than serving the vile hailene, who had mistreated, enslaved and disfigured her so?

Left hand steady, she placed it on the raised, sharpened letters and pressed. The stone bit her skin and then her crimson life was pooling and dribbling across the stone. The chains, to a one, quivered and rattled.

Now swear. Said the voice. Swear to use me as you will. To work your will through me. Accept the bond.

I do. She said with all the false confidence she could muster.

The magical flames guttered out. The chains went taunt, straining with metallic groans.

The bargain has been struck. The bond is formed. Only now did she realize that she hadn't actually been hearing the voice before. It had been in her head. Now it was a sound and a foreboding and terrible one at that. It continued to grow in intensity and volume as it spoke. Dissolving containment protocols.

Once more, the chains strained and flexed. They crumbled the pillars in their coils and leapt at the sarcophagus, wrapping tightly around it until cracks began to appear.

Aligning spell structures for core array. Slaving to arcane command link and aligning command array... Chunks of stone exploded off the sarcophagus, revealing hollows within. Within seconds, it was destroyed and the chains wrapped themselves around a man-sized shape within the resultant dust cloud.

Foreign emotions invaded her head as she watched: a cruel form of manic glee, contained brooding anger, and smug satisfaction. Then it struck her almost like a physical blow: they weren't her thoughts, but the Rune Breaker's.

The surrounding dust thinned and he stood before her, bound in ever-constricting chains. Tall and thin, but nowhere near her height. He looked like a human, dressed in some sort of thick, black canvas in a rough approximation of a great coat and breeches that left his emaciated chest bare. Wild, midnight hair as long as he was tall whipped around him, writhing like tentacles.

Retracting tertiary containment spells. He said, more quietly and slightly less brusquely than before. The chains around him began to melt into his body. Soon his arms were free to hang at his sides. He stood up straight and hovered a few feet up into the air.

Her nose tingled with the sheer amount of ambient magic around him.

The hounds had been forgotten, but they now made themselves known with a collective effort against the door. It held, but barely; fist sized chunks of stone crumbled around it.

The Rune Breaker stared at her with an inscrutable expression. Anticipation grew in the back of her head. He was waiting for something – but what?

Another slam against the door. More stone fell. His gaze flicked over to it.

Do you wish for me to kill them, Mistress?

She reeled. Not at the question, but at the appellation. And when his expression changed to confusion, followed instantly by that same feeling in her head, it became all too clear that the emotional exchange worked both ways. This did nothing to help the paralysis induced by his statement.

The next hit tore the door free of its frame, causing it to fall into the room with a ringing din that echoed again and again within the chamber.

Terrible excitement spread out like an oily film in her head and she looked at him, taken aback. It wasn't showing on his face, but he was giddy with blood-lust.

It has been decided without you. He informed her. The first priority is preventing my master from coming to harm. His right arm came up and swept her aside as the first hounds to recover came bounding in. It shouldn't have been possible, he was probably only three quarters her weight and not even planted on the ground on top of that.

She forced the shock and confusion down and slid into a sword stance so she could meet the hounds.

That proved unnecessary as the same arm that swept her aside suddenly twisted and the canvas covering it deformed. A trio of black thorns, each some eight inches long, formed on the side facing away from her. With astonishing speed, it reversed direction and, still twisting and growing, slammed into the first hound. Two thorns tore into the animal's throat, the last punched up through its jaw, through the palate and into the brain. It would have been dead even if the surging strength behind the arm hadn't launched it into the far wall hard enough to shatter its ribs.

Even less lucky was the next hound to leap at them, for the Rune Breaker still had a free hand. This one had become some sort of colossal, black cleaver while she wasn't looking and it fell from overhead like a meteor strike, severing the animal's front leg, two ribs, and any number of organs while at the same time hammering it to the stone floor.

All the while, the blood-lust built and rattled around gleefully in her skull. There had been berserkers of a sort in the hailene army. But never something like this. It wasn't so much a rage that drove one to kill, as the joy of an artist whose medium was warfare.

Another beast leapt at him and he brought his arms back across his body as twin war hammers that crushed its shoulders. This time, it wasn't enough and the hound used its hind legs to power through, catching his shoulder with its teeth.

That lasted for the space of a breath before the strange man seemed to melt and flow until a huge, black anaconda was wrapped around the hapless animal, crushing the life from it. A brutal attack, but a wasteful one; in doing so, he left an opening for two more hounds to rush toward his apparent charge.

She met the first as it leapt at her, working her forearm up under its jaw to hold it away from her by the throat. Huge paws tore at her shoulders, but she ignored them, thrusting her broken blade into its belly and emptying its guts onto the floor.

By that time, the second had come around to flank her. It wasn't fast enough. She turned and used the body of the first as a shield, pushing it back while swiping for the newcomer's eyes. The beast evaded losing its eyes, but couldn't save itself when a massive, black dire-wolf hit it from the side, snapping huge jaws at its neck.

The hound's luck held and it scudded sideways from the initial blow, avoiding the lethal follow-through. Two more packmates came to its rescue by leaping onto the great wolf's back.

Dropping her corpse-shield, she darted in, driving her sword into one of the hound's haunches and using it as leverage to pull it off her new ally. Even as she did, the nearby dire wolf was transforming, fur and lean muscle giving way to leathery skin and heavy carapace.

It was a creature she'd never seen before. It had a heavy knob- and spike-covered shell, and a face combining lizard and bovine features. Most striking was a long, muscular tail ending in a two-knotted club of bone.

The remaining hound couldn't keep a hold on the hard carapace and when it slipped off, it paid by way of being crushed into a smear on the near wall by that same club.

Showing their intelligence, the remaining three hounds broke off their attack, regrouping across the chamber. Out of range of that killing club.

The new, strange animal ambled into position between she and them, waving the club menacingly to show its weight.

Wary, the hounds started to fan out. He could only kill one at a time, the swordswoman one more. She could see the logic working in their heads. This was what they were created for: intelligent attrition.

Unfortunately for them, their logic was missing several key facts. And the Rune Breaker was proud to show them their error. Once more, his form shifted, expanding and growing as the carapace split into a pair of massive, leathery wings.

Not for the first time in the battle, she was stunned beyond thought.

There in the chamber, standing between her and the murderous hounds, stood a black dragon, wings unfurled to fill a full quarter of the room.

The itching started again on her arms and down her back. Heat filled her belly; that hateful, hateful heat.

No! She shouted, not realizing it was out loud. Her voice bounced around the room like an entity of its own. Nightmares of scales and wings; a throat full of liquid fire, all tore through her mind. Her grip on the broken sword became painful.

And somehow because of this, the dragon before her shivered and its body dissolved into dark mist that sank and spread to cover the ground.

The sight was more than enough to jar her back to reality. What just happened? Was that her doing?

My apologies, Mistress.

Stop calling me that. She snarled.

There wasn't any time to argue. All three hounds saw that the way to their target was open and they rushed for her as a single being.

Without warning, the mist erupted. A slick, black stalagmite stabbed up from the floor and impaled one, hoisting it into the air as a grizzly monument. A man-sized talon, like that of a roc, emerged, grabbing the second and hurling it into the chamber ceiling. The third was simply enveloped in the cloying darkness and was gone.

Silence suddenly returned to the chamber.

Slowly, the mist began to rotate around a central point, which began to rise up into human shape.

My master is no longer in danger of harm. Spell limitations have been reset to safe levels. The Rune Breaker said as the last wisps of his person returned to his body. This time, he was clothed in dark gray robes and a cloak of the same color. His hair was cropped close.

Grip still tight enough to deform the metal in her hand, she all but growled at him. I'm no one's master. Don't call me that.

The bond requires I speak respectfully to you. He said, his voice now even, the blood-lust gone. But an underlying anger still in her head and growing at his mention of the bond.

She puzzled at this, but her mind was more on the issue of 'mistresses' and 'masters' at the moment. You can speak respectfully without using those terms. Call me... She wracked her brain for something useful. The hailene liked being called 'master' and 'lord' and any of their military titles. Their enemies were less pompous though, and had milder honorifics. 'Miss' will do, I suppose.

'Miss' what? He asked. I do not know the mis... your name. He seemed vaguely troubled at this course of action, an emotion she could verify using the bond.

Taylin. She said. And I suppose I'm to call you Rune Breaker?

If you wish. Your most recent predecessors did.

But is that what you'd like to be called? Her military training started to kick in and unconsciously, she started cleaning blood from her sword with the tattered hem of her shirt.

This question called up even more uncertainty and unease in the bond. It doesn't matter. The wielder names their weapon. And I am a weapon.

Phantoms of the itching in her arms and back haunted her mind for a moment and she abruptly stopped cleaning her sword. Her expression became adamant and angry. So am I. Her voice was firm and loud enough to fill the chamber. And I am tired of it not mattering. Now tell me who you are.

Is that an order? He asked.

Yes. And the moment she said that, she felt a very faint, cold chill in the back of her head. It wasn't an emotion, but something about the bond itself... moving or changing... maybe just operating.

The Rune Breaker lowered his head and his voice became emotionless and subdued. Yes, Miss Taylin. The name of Rune Breaker is a pun, in your modern language, on the ancient name I was born with and a reference to my abilities.

He straightened up, floating off the ground again until his head was of a height with hers. But his eyes were still downcast. "I am the shape-shifting master. The arcane terror of nations long dead. The weapon bound by the most complex spell structures ever devised in the history of two worlds to serve the strongest of souls.

I am kingmaker. Beast slayer. The foundation of tyranny. The destroyer of armies and the power of ancestral gods. Use me as you will and I will rain oblivion on your enemies. Work your will through me and all barriers before you will be utterly decimated. Direct me in the service of your greatest desires and you will rule nations.

Without warning, he dropped to a knee, supported by one fist on the smooth, stone floor. My name is Ru Brakar. And until you breathe your last, I am your servant and weapon. Such was the bargain you struck and sealed in blood.

Chapter 2 – Consequence and Conscience

Ru's words tore into Taylin's stomach in ways that the hounds would never have accomplished. She stumbled back from him until her back found the wall. Through her threadbare shirt, the cool rock irritated the area around the scars there. Scars that were all that was left of a birthright taken from her by the hailene.

No! The statement echoed off the domed roof. That isn't right. I don't want this.

From where he'd come to kneel, Ru lifted his head. His face was without emotion, and his eyes, not quite the right shape for a human and amber besides, observed her. In the link, she could feel his measured curiosity overtaking all else.

You made the bargain, Miss Taylin.

Taylin's back slid along the wall until she found herself in a crouch. Years of conditioning and berating from taskmasters made it difficult to sit fully. She took notice of just how much of a hold her old masters still had on her and forced herself to sit.

I didn't know what you were talking about. I didn't know the Rune Breaker was a person.

Ru laughed and the coldness in the sound came through in the link as well. With little apparent effort, he stood smoothly from kneeling. I'm not. The man died so long ago that not even his dust remains. All that's left of Ru Brakar are his powers and skill, imprisoned by spellcraft and artifice.

Taylin bled slowly, but she had a lot of wounds to bleed from. The blood loss was starting to make her lightheaded. That's not true. The words came out slurred.

I can feel... you feel. That didn't make any sense and she knew it. The minimal combat medicine she'd been taught came back to her. She needed to stop the bleeding.

No bandages. The stiff canvas shirt she wore was in tatters and soaked through with blood; both hers and from others. Her thick wool leggings were also torn and bloodied,on top of being caked in mud and dust. Without the adrenaline of battle, she was starting to doubt she'd be able to tie a bandage properly in her condition anyway.

A sly, smug feeling came from Ru, though his expression didn't change. He floated over to her, feet only inches above the ground so that the charcoal gray robes and cloak dragged across the stone. When he was directly in front of her, he sank down into a cross-legged position.

This close, the height difference and size difference in general were striking. Thought he was tall for a human, Ru was still a head shorter than Taylin. Even slumped as she was, her warrior's frame made two of the taunt whip of his scholarly build.

He stared at her without seeming to see her for the space of a breath. You are bleeding to death, Miss Taylin. There wasn't anything to argue with there; she knew as much already. No use wasting her last energy with that. From the link, she could tell that the prospect of her demise didn't concern him one way or another, but he was annoyed that the statement didn't draw a better response.

A moment later, he tried again. You said before that you did not wish to die here.

And she had told him that it didn't look like she had a choice.

And you were wrong.

That got a start from her. She knew for a fact that she hadn't said those words out loud. She'd only been thinking them.

Another facet of the link. You can speak with me, issue commands at range with a thought. Ru explained. It is a complicated piece of spell structuring with many rules governing it. For example, you can read my thoughts, but I can only hear what comes to the surface of yours. He leaned forward. Right now, you still do not want to die.

Once again, there was no point in arguing. It was obvious from the start. Why bother telling her that when they also both knew these were her last moments?

But Ru kept talking, his voice even and deep and entirely sinister. Now, he put the palm of his hand on her forehead and gently pushed her head back against the wall. Taylin wanted to fight, but couldn't. She didn't like being touched.

For example, I am required to protect you from harm. But I am not required to stop you from bleeding to death, even though it would be nothing for me to heal you.

Gloating. That's what it was. He had managed to strike a bargain to get free of his bonds, and in the process, managed to shake off the inconvenient 'master' that came with it. If she weren't watching the world swirl and fade because of it, she might be proud of him for killing someone who enslaved him.

Your only hope now is to order me to heal you. He said, hand still on her head. Just think the command and you will not die, Miss Taylin

Taylin didn't know if it was the blood loss or the nausea that made her stomach roll at that. Probably both, plus a slowly kindling anger. How dare he give her that choice: become one of the things she'd tried so hard to escape, or perish just hours after making herself free.

The last of her strength was dedicated to reaching up and brushing his hand aside. She would die a good death after all.

***

Warmth flooded her. The afterlife? It made sense. The closest to this combination of physical and spiritual warmth flowing through her were the times that a sympathetic or, more commonly, efficiency-minded taskmaster deigned to use combat healing to get her back into battle or to work.

What she was feeling now was greater than the sum of all those instances combined. A river of light and warmth enfolding her body, dulling the sharp edges of her hurts, gently tugging her torn flesh into proper shape. It infused every tissue and every thought. Comparing that to what she felt before was the difference between a single rain drop and a deluge.

Her scattered thoughts chained together again, regaining the shape of coherency. Perhaps she shouldn't have feared death. Here she felt peace, comfort and pleasure that she'd never known in the mines or on the ships. It was as close to joy as she'd ever dared seek.

And then her hands began to itch. And the muscles in her back knotted.

No!

It couldn't be happening here, even in death. Not even in the afterlife could she escape the things the hailene had put inside her.

This time, there was so much strength behind her limbs that when she struck out, Ru turned a quarter circle before his balance failed him and he felt into a stunned heap on his side. Surprise and irritation filled the link as the green-black light that had enveloped her dissipated.

She gasped at the residual ecstasy from the healing before remembering the itching. A quick glance revealed that the very first little patches of scales were showing on her skin. She willed them away. Only then did she remember Ru.

I'm sorry. She said quickly, reaching over to help him up. Though he neither accepted, nor fought; she quickly had him sitting up again. I didn't know what was happening. I thought I was dead and...

Horror dawned on her. Oh no. I ended up ordering you to heal me, didn't I?

Surprise was quickly transforming into confusion and curiosity in the link, but only within a sizable nest of irritation.

You did not, Miss Taylin..

It was her turn to be surprised. Why? If I died, then you would be free. For some reason, that irritated him even more.

I would not have been free. He said, his face still bereft of emotion. In the event you die or relinquish the link, the containment spells will be reinstated within thirty hours, during which time, I will be compelled to find or construct with my power a place such as this to wait for my next master.

Oh. She said flatly. So you think it's better to..., She felt sick at the word, serve me than be imprisoned again.

Ru didn't even think about it. I'm not so certain. My half-oblivion existence while contained is a torment, but you seem averse to exercising my abilities, even when your life depends on it. If this is the case, one is the same as the other for me.

There was no way that he was going to make her feel guilty for not ordering him around. But knowing the choices: being bound to someone or being sealed in isolation, she felt for him. Evidently, he sensed that in her and it made him even more annoyed.

Then why did you heal me? She asked.

Because I cannot allow harm to come to you. He said and once again got to his feet.

She did the same, after finding the sword on the floor beside her and taking it up. It never hurt to have a weapon about you, even a ruined one. But you said it would allow you to let me bleed out.

Ru turned from her and glided over to the fallen door, contemplating it intensely. The link allows me to lie unless ordered not to.

There was the smugness again. He'd tried to trick her into giving him an order. The little flame of anger she felt when she thought he was mocking her in death lit again, but it was prevented from burning over.

Back on the ships, she'd seen some her brothers and sisters, fellow ang'hailene, give in to who and what they were completely. They had become more like dogs than the hounds were; ready and joyful in the pursuit of their masters' goals. They reported dutifully all dissent and unrest; even killing their own if it was even suggested it would please the overseers and taskmasters.

Before it was broken, the sword in her hand had put an end to three like that. She felt no joy in it, even as she knew that they would have killed her gladly if they were only a bit stronger or more skilled than she was.

Somehow though, Ru didn't fit that. He tried to get her to issue an order, yes. But he made no secret that he didn't like her. It seemed that every word or thought of hers bit at him like a case of fleas he wasn't allowed to scratch. So what was it that made him attempt that gambit?

When she looked back at him, he had become an ogre; all gray-brown flab over hulking muscle. Without ceremony, he bent and worked stubby fingers under the collapsed frame off the door and with only a small effort creasing his hairy brow, lifted it back into place. Then with only a gesture, he worked some form of magic to make the stone around it whole again.

Why are you doing that? She asked quietly. The acoustics of the dome made it carry.

He glanced back at her and the ogre melted into the human shape she assumed was his base form. Because I have done nothing for over one hundred and fifty years, Ms. Taylin. He said. A simple spell could have done. And really, there is no need to make repairs to this place. But I can, therefore I am.

Taylin frowned. He'd been closed up in that... thing for three times as long as she'd even been alive. Almost as long as it was even possible for her to be alive. For her, it was her entire adolescence. For a human, if he truly was human, it was two entire lifetimes.

Reading her thoughts, Ru replied as he went about testing the door. I've been sealed for longer periods than that. By the bonds of these spells, I've outlived civilizations you have not even heard of; so thoroughly were they wiped from this world. The designer knew the torment simple boredom can inflict.

Taylin slipped the truncated sword into her belt. It wouldn't be needed for a time at least. Is that why you tried to force me into giving you an order?

Partially. He said stoically. The swirl of emotion and thought in the link stilled. Was he blocking it somehow? Miss Taylin, the thing you must understand is that I would rather be a weapon than nothing.

She chewed her lip. Others she had known shared that attitude as well. The work became everything to them, no matter what it was. That could at least be respected, not like the sycophantic slaves. Yet when the idea of rebellion would come about, they were useless, unable to imagine anything but the work. That Ru did not fit either.

There are other options. She suggested. We could simply walk out of here and go our separate ways. You would be free to do as you please, free from me as long as I live.

Heh. Ru laughed harshly. She couldn't tell what was behind it with the link clouded, but it didn't sound cruel. Just a laugh from someone who didn't engage in such a thing in a genuine way very often. You think that you're more clever than the architects of these bonds?

It wasn't the first time she'd been called clever. 'Taylin' actually meant 'clever girl' in the speech of the hailene. She remembered being called Pele, which meant the same thing in Vishnari: the common tongue of the empire the hailene were at war with, though she couldn't recall by whom.

'Clever girl' were the last words of her former Sky-captain. He'd forgotten that she was proof against fire in the course of punishing her for being too clever for his tastes and she'd used the spell he intended to harm her with to melt the rune-covered collar on her neck that compelled against violent retribution. If he hadn't paused to mock her, he probably could have stopped her from kicking her discarded sword off the planks and into her hands. After that, nothing could have stopped his fate. She was too good a swordswoman to lose to a weaker foe in close quarters.

But she remembered being called Pele before, vaguely. And then it had not been said in cruel tones, but proud, soft ones...

Taylin brushed the thoughts aside. A dream from her childhood, remembered as if it were fact.

She was suddenly aware of curiosity and a hint of blood-lust in the link. She looked up to see Ru staring at her. He'd evidently seized upon the memory of the Sky-captain’s death, but even more obvious was the fact that he'd noticed her drift off for some appreciable amount of time.

It won't work? She asked.

They considered every contingency, Miss Taylin. He said with a nod. Otherwise, I could abandon an unconscious master to their fate. If I don't witness a threat of harm, and am not informed of it by my master, the link cannot compel me to action. Therefore, if I separate myself willingly from my master by too great a distance, the retribution engine is initialized.

Either by anticipating her next question, or simply by plucking it from her mind, he added: It is a method of punishment; wracking pain and paralysis as well as disorientation and a cancellation of my powers. He carefully let a feeling of finality into the link. The matter was closed as far as he was concerned.

Taylin respected that and changed the subject. You're skilled in magic. Why didn't you use it against the hounds until the end?

Whatever method he used to cloud the link stopped doing so in order for her to feel the amusement he next felt at the question. Why did I lift the door instead of levitate it? I care not for efficiency or expediency. The point has been impressed upon me that I am eternal.

He flexed his spindly arms and studied his closed fists. The sleeves of his robe obliged him by subtly dissolving until his arms were exposed to the elbow. Therefore, I feel no compulsion not to embrace the feeling of power coursing through these veins, the pride of tension in my back, or the satisfaction of my own teeth and claws bringing oblivion to those that oppose me.

I'm sorry. Taylin said in a small voice, as he stood there, apparently lost in his own dramatics.

What? He asked flippantly.

For what happened to you. However it happened. And for... being in control of you. Is there really no other option? She furrowed her brow, trying hard to communicate her sincerity to him in the same way he broadcast his own emotions to her.

What she got was another wave of confusion and a feeling of being off balance. That was swallowed once again by his frustration, seemingly his dominant emotion.

He continued to stare at his fists. They weren't impressive in human form. Not by a long shot. But he looked at them as if intending to use them to punch through a mountain. There is always the option of actually making use of me, Miss Taylin.

No. There isn't.

Why not? He snarled, his frustration mounting. If you had found an iron cask and a jinni inside, you would not have hesitated to beseech him for wishes. If you knew a spell to bind a lord of devils, there would be no morality preventing you from forcing a beneficial bargain.

Without even thinking, she put her hand on her sword's pommel, a classic intimidation tactic when dealing with enemy prisoners. I don't want a slave. She said firmly. You've seen some of my memories, I can tell. Would you like to see more? Will that convince you?

I do not care, Miss Taylin. He made sure she felt his apathy. But perhaps you would like to recollect your one hundred and seven predecessors. Behold the greatness they attained through me, see their empires carved out and the centuries of their legacy. Would that convince you?

Taylin sighed. You simply don't understand. I don't want an empire, or riches, or greatness. I just want to live my life my own way: free. I want a home, friends, a life without war and slavery.

Ru straightened his back. "And you think that will be allowed you? I have seen your memories. The ones that stirred in any event; and the ones that you dredged up at this very moment. You former masters are making war with the entire world and spitting in the faces of the gods to do it."

He folded his arms, allowing the sleeves to regenerate. If they have their way, there won't be peace in this world in a human lifespan. Not until they conquer the whole of their enemy. Which I shall remind you is the entire world. A new emotion slithered into Taylin's mind from the link; slick, elusive and suggestive. She couldn't guess at what it was. She never felt it herself, that was certain.

But... His voice dropped an octave. You now have in your hands a weapon. A means to exact revenge upon them; to end their ambitions of conquest in flame and darkness. Each and every one of them will lament at what they've done to you as the crows come to peck at the corpse of every great work they've created. Everything that is them shall be ground away to dust. Wet in their blood and tears, and fired into a shape of your own design.

It was clear in the link that he was quiet proud of the picture he presented and expected her to respond in kind. But Taylin recoiled in revulsion from it, actually taking several steps back from him.

No! She shouted, flinching from nightmares that existed only in her mind's eye and Ru's words. That isn't what I want! I don't want revenge or to grind away at anyone. I only want what I said. Peace. A life. And... and if that's impossible now, I'd rather sleep a thousand years until this world... this life is a crumbling nightmare known only as ancient history.

Ru paused in his ruminations on how exactly to ruin Taylin's former masters to gaze directly at her. The mounting blood-lust and cruelty in the link stopped and it stilled. Not blocked this time, but transformed into the dull buzz of consideration.

Is that really what you wish, Ms. Taylin? He asked. His tone had all the care of a hospitaller’s touch.

Yes! She said, anguished by the thought of what she'd been offered. Anything is better than this. In fact, I wish you could do exactly that.

He was no jinni, granting wishes wasn't his business, and she was not in the frame of mind to think through exactly what she was asking. But it was enough to count. It would be a massive drain, even on his considerable powers; but the return was in time. Time to plot and examine the link. To put his sorcerous genius to work, and to act as he pleased provided it was near enough to the cavern to avoid the retribution engine.

Just veiling his emotions in the link had taken him decades; and even then, he could only do it in short bursts. But with a thousand years... The former slave's reluctance toward the darker thoughts he'd come to expect of everyone who had ever taken up the link might not be so wasteful.

As you wish, Miss Taylin. He brought up his hands in a very specific gesture: first and middle fingers together, thumbs forward. He spoke only two words of invocation. With his vast power and skill it took nothing more than that to erect the appropriate spell array composed of the psychic energy, psi, and the void energy, vox. Maintaining it and keeping Taylin alive could come later. Nightmare Syndrome.

His robe grew a cloak as black as burnt wood and tattered like the mainsail of a ghost galleon. An invisible wind whipped it forward, causing it to stretch beyond it's apparent limits.

Taylin didn't notice until she was already surrounded by billowing folds of shadowy cloth.

Ru? What are you doing? Ru?! The cloth was everywhere, its noise canceling out all other sound and its fluttering bulk obscuring everything. It contracted close, too close. Something primal within her screamed and spurred her to action.

Flailing, she caught handful of cloth after handful of cloth. Tearing, ripping, casting aside. She lashed out with every ounce of her warrior's ferocity, and with every sheet of cloth she tore down, she stepped closer to its source.

It felt like eternity, but finally, she sensed a body near. And by now, she didn't care about the feelings or dignity of its owner. She lunged forth once more, shunting aside the cloak and finding Ru's face beyond it. Then she planted her fist into it.

Ru crumpled almost dutifully. But he didn't seem to fall that far. Had he been sitting down? Now that she looked, she was sitting too, with her back propped against the wall. There were no signs of cloth; not one torn edge. But she did see where one of the hounds had fallen. Its body was desiccated to a husk of brittle skin and hair, the dull, dirty white of bones and teeth exposed by drying and receding flesh.

It was then that her breath caught and she started choking. The air was close and stale, without a drop of humidity. Though her lungs filled, they burned at finding nothing of worth to extract from it.

Taylin had endured forty years of abuse and conditioning as well as more combat hours than she could remember. She had won her freedom with guile and a broken sword. She had faced the temptation of the greatest weapon in existence and resisted wielding it in anger. From her perspective, she had already cheated death twice that day and came out more healthy than she had ever been.

And now she was being killed by ancient, stale air.

Chapter 3 – Paradise

She loves flying. said a voice that Taylin had never been able to put a face to. She was dreaming. Dreaming a dream she'd had many times before. It was always the same: a garden, blue skies, glass between the two, as clear as air.

The earthy smell of the place was so real, so familiar, as was the voice. It never spoke to her, but to someone else she couldn't see.

And smart too. She can already read, write, and she's coming right along with sums.

Fine brickwork made up the walkways between rows of carefully arranged plants. Some bore fruit; oranges and gathermelons that were wonderfully sticky-sweet. She picked one and tore into it, not minding the green juice that ran down her chin.

She isn't just special in the way I intended. She's become my very clever girl.

Then the voice was lost in a roar. The wind over an aerial troop ship at cruising speed. Chains bound her arms and there was stone pressing against her chest and stomach.

Do your duty, Captain. said a new voice. A cruel voice. One that hated her as much as the first one loved her. This one has lost the right to wings. I see it as a mercy, seeing how ugly they are. Then there was white-hot pain. And always the wind.

***

Taylin awakened, wracked with a terrible coughing fit that tore at her throat and sent her body into spasms. Unable to stop it, she rolled onto her belly and coughed up the dust from the stale, reeking air she'd taken into her lungs earlier.

But the wind she'd heard was real. A powerful wind had appeared in the room; not just the movement of air, but the movement of the fresh air she sorely needed. With it came a mild yellow light; brighter than the magical torches, but far less harsh.

After minutes of hyperventilating and ridding herself of dead air, Taylin cautiously settled onto her side and looked to see where the light came from.

Fifty feet above her head, where the curve of the dome was well shrouded in darkness, there was a gap as large as her head in the air, bounded by arcs of white lightning. Through that gap, she saw not the stone ceiling, but an azure sky and white wisps of clouds.

What... She wheezed and coughed again.

Short range teleportaton, Miss Taylin. Ru's rough voice said from somewhere to her right. Held at the very moment wherein that space is in two locations at once.

Taylin had no idea what that actually meant, but the moment she sighted him, lying flat on his back, directly beneath the hole in the air, only one thing was important. She scrambled to her feet and dropped her hand to her sword. You tried... She had to pause for breath, To kill me.

A sour feeling came into the link, yet another of his emotions she couldn't identify; possibly indignation. I did not.

She gripped the hilt of her only weapon and slipped into a stance that would maximize the effect of drawing and striking in the same motion. Then why did I wake up choking?

Why am I rectifying that issue? Ru replied, but they both knew the answer to that: he had to.

After a moment of silence, he exhaled sharply. I attempted to work your will. To allow you to sleep for one thousand years. But an outside force intervened.

There was no need for Taylin to voice the myriad questions that provoked. He picked them up directly from her mind.

It is possible. He explained, spurred by the incredulity he no doubt sensed. With my power, I could sustain you, at the cost of a substantial drain upon myself. I placed you into a dreamless slumber and created the necessary spell structures to sustain your life. But as I said, an outside agency, a power even beyond my own lashed out at the world. I was forced to split my focus to prevent this chamber from collapsing beneath the onslaught... The sensation of his hurt pride came through the link, I succeeded, but was knocked unconscious in the effort.

Slowly, Taylin digested this information. A glance above revealed that some places in the ceiling were now worn and crushed to mirror-smoothness. Those patches glittered like jewels in the chaotic light of the portal Ru continued to maintain.

That doesn't explain why the air was so dead when I woke up. She finally said, still unwilling to let go of her mistrust.

Because that is what happens to the atmosphere in a sealed room over centuries with no one to maintain it, Miss Taylin. To say nothing of the rotting corpses.

His words struck like a bolt of lightning. Centuries? That had to be a lie. The link didn't prevent that. But what did he stand to gain by it? Did that really matter? There was no way she'd been asleep for a thousand years.

Again, he skimmed the thoughts directly from her mind. You are correct, Ms. Taylin. Between the power I expended preventing the chamber's collapse, and being incapacitated to the point that I couldn't regenerate said power, I would not have survived sustaining you for ten centuries.

Taylin would have relaxed a bit, if not for the fact that he was still talking.

When I regained my senses, I ended the spell on you; at which point, you struck me. There was no recrimination or hurt at that, just informing her what happened. She could tell he didn't give a damn one way or the other, but for some reason, that made her feel worse.

And in spite of it all, she sensed an unmistakable ring of truth from him. Whether it was from the link, or her own instincts, she didn't know. She released her sword and heaved a sigh. I thought you were attacking me. From now on, please—and this is a request, not an order—make sure I know what you're doing before you do something like that. No apologies. She felt guilty for the link and bad to punching him, but he should have known better in the second case.

I will make the effort, Miss Taylin. Ru said, sitting up in a smooth, swift manner that no normal man could match.

She nodded. Good. And don't... assume I'm giving you orders. I don't want to and I'd rather you stop trying to make me do it.

He stood, brushing himself off dramatically. He did everything with at least a dose of overwrought. You could order me to stop. He pointed out, smugness and dark humor emanating from him. Then he turned his attention to the door. It was nearly surrounded by the glassy stone that resulted from a battle of his raw power against the unknown force.

However, the cave you followed to this place was collapsed and fused. Unless your training or abilities include burrowing through eight hundred feet of solid stone, you will require my abilities.

A huff of unhappy air erupted from Taylin and she bared her teeth at him in a way that made it clear that she wasn't smiling. Stop. Just stop. This spell, it connects us. I understand that. But it doesn't force me to treat you like a slave, so I refuse to. Does it prevent you from helping me out of charity and camaraderie without an order?

Ru grimaced at her continued insistence at this argument. Do you have a camaraderie with your sword? Does the sword bound out on its own volition to strike your foes because it cares about you and wants to help? No, it cleaves because you wield it.

Taylin sent him a lance of her own annoyance and folded her arms and looked around the chamber, her eyes finally falling on the portal high above. Ru?

Yes, Miss Taylin?

Where does the other side of that portal lead?

It opens at ground level directly above the chamber; the shortest distance to fresh air I could locate. He replied, looking up at it as well.

And what happens if a person touches those edges?

The distortion would sunder their flesh where it touched the boundaries, tearing it apart on a basic level, such that there would not even be blood remaining.

She chewed her lip as she came to a difficult decision. That would be rather harmful to them. Before Ru could decipher that remark, she was off, dashing atop the nearest rubble left over from Ru's awakening. It only offered her a few feet of elevation, but every little bit helped, even with her phenomenal strength.

Two steps and a leap propelled her upward toward the scintillating gap in the air.

Panic exploded in the back of her head and suddenly, the gap enlarged enough for her to pass cleanly through it. Her gambit had been absolutely correct. Tingling raced across her skin as the windy cold of the chamber was replaced by calm and warmth.

A moment later, she landed face down on a slight, grassy slope, surrounded by trees. Salt air teased her nose and a warm breeze lapped at her face. It was something out of a dream, or a memory; simply lying out in the grass beneath the sun. There was no sun in the mines, and no grass on the ships, and yet... there was a fond memory of both together...

From behind her came a sharp buzzing; like a thousand angry hornets trapped in a metal pail. It became higher pitched and more cacophonous until finally terminating in a muffled thunderclap. The portal closing perhaps? Ru was a tiny cyclone of anger and embarrassment that the link unerringly informed her was eight hundred feet directly below her.

A short fit of laughter overtook her as she got up on her knees into a sitting position. It wasn't a noise she was used to making, but it felt good. Slowly, she became aware of the world around her.

The mental blip that was Ru suddenly jumped eight hundred feet to be behind her with no accompanying sound or other sensation. Ordering me to help is immoral, and yet manipulating and exploiting the link in other ways are not. The growl in his voice faltered in his agitation..

Taylin wasn't listening. She was looking down the slope, to where it became sand before it disappeared into the bay. The bay